The Root of Six Six Six
by Neko-chan -Silvered Tongue
Summary: The Lower Elements had forgotten, unfortunately, that Time Paradoxes always have some sort of backlash, even if it takes years in the making to come to fruition. Debts will be addressed and paid as the People and Artemis Fowl ready themselves for war.
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_Title:_ The Root of Six Six Six

_Author:_ Neko-chan

_Fandoms:_ Artemis Fowl & Harry Potter

_Pairing:_ Artemis/Harry

_Rating:_ T, eventual M

_Disclaimer:_ Not mine. ;_; Not Artemis nor Harry nor movie!Voldemort-in-a-suit nor poncy!Lucius nor ferret!Draco nor competent!Butler nor sassy!Holly. I just have to make due with borrowing… *sighs in a despondent manner*

_Summary:_ The Lower Elements had forgotten, unfortunately, that Time Paradoxes _always_ have some sort of backlash, even if it takes years in the making to come to fruition. Debts will be addressed and paid as the People and Artemis Fowl ready themselves for war against the Necromancers—and are joined by the most unlikeliest of allies: the wizarding world. And the Boy-Who-Lived.

_Author's Note:_ Trying my own hand at an Artemis Fowl and Harry Potter crossover. *headdesks* All blame(?) goes to ExcentrykeMuse (_Fairy Dust_) and salty-sarah (_Fair is Fowl, and Fowl is Fair_) for their own crossovers that I read in one sitting and promptly fell in love with. And _definite_ blame goes to Artemis Fowl for being that which I can never resist: the anti-hero. ;)

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_Only two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former._  
- Albert Einstein

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Morality.

Artemis Fowl had decided long ago, at the tender age of ten, that "morality" was perhaps one of the most ambiguous of concepts that any one person might attempt to learn in the duration of his or her rather short lifetime. Treaties had been written on the idea of "morality," philosophical papers that debated the idea of _pure_ "good" and "evil"—proposing thoughts in terms of absolutes and coloring the world in shades of black and white.

The child prodigy, however, had found out early on that he best enjoyed making his way through life in the subtle, twilight shade of the between reality: the hypothesis that purposed that there was something that was neither "here" nor "there" and instead resided along the razor's edge of middle-ground.

When one became an internationally renowned crime lord at the prepubescent age of twelve, the middle-ground, the twilight arena where Shadows stretched and lingered: this was the land where the morally vague resided and flourished.

Now, at the age of twenty-one, Artemis had resided so long in the landscape that was colored with crepuscular light that he could easily navigate his way through his now-natural environment, the home that called to his heart in a way that Fowl Manor never could.

That fact should be pitiable. But it was not.

Perhaps this was because, despite the solo pathways that Artemis usually traveled—dual-colored eyes dark with inner thoughts that never passed his pale lips—there were still presences within his life that usually managed to drag him away from ashen-toned notions and, at least temporarily, coax him instead towards a world that was bright and scintillant, luminous and refulgent and burnished, light and resplendent: the world that most others lived in. But that was not the world for him.

And yet…

Yet.

Now was such one of the times that his friends had coaxed him back to the light, interrupting Artemis' scheming in taking over a newly conglomerated oil company—intending to swoop in when the company was celebrating its triumph and instead buying out all of the stocks so that he was then the main shareholder. But that was then and this was…

Now, though—_now_: Artemis sat cross-legged in the chair that he had been gestured to by Holly, Butler at his shoulder as Minerva gracefully settled into the chair opposite the table from him. Having her here unsettled him, and Artemis carefully stifled the bubbling concern that made his shoulders tighten in reaction. As the Fowl heir glanced away from the young, beautiful girl, Foaly clip-clopped his way into the conference room, and the "Mud Boy" felt a distant sort of surprise at seeing the centaur, what with Foaly so rarely being willing to part from his work.

The young man quirked an elegant black brow, silently turning his head just enough to the side to give Holly an inquiring glance. She hadn't given him any details when she had whisked him, Minerva, and Butler away to Haven, but this _truly_ must have been important.

The fairy fiddled with her fingers in a nervous gesture before wrapping them tight with one another, bringing her hands down to settle on her lap and out of sight. She had matured since Artemis had first seen her: skin darkening to a pretty mahogany, the delicate tips of her ears just barely peeking out from beneath the silken strands of her auburn hair—and her eyes, twinned to Artemis', met the Fowl's straight-on.

"Paradoxes are strange things," Holly began, moving to the heart of the matter as her gaze never left her human friend's. "When they come into being, unforeseen consequences always happen as another result."

Artemis fell silent at that, mulling over Holly's words, weighing them in the way that he tended to do after finally being rid of Orion's personality—the Atlantis Complex, if anything, had made Artemis that much more withdrawn and less inclined to share his thoughts.

Finally, however, the young man spoke. "And I take it that these unforeseen consequences have finally come to light?" he asked, Irish accent lilting through the words.

"They have," an unfamiliar voice said as the last and final participant in the meeting stepped through the door. A long, forest-green cloak swept across the floor, just barely brushing atop the toes of boots that looked to be made from some sort of lizard hide. Artemis glanced over to the newcomer, Butler tensing behind him, and frowned: an Englishman? Surprisingly, Holly winced and looked immediately guilty.

When the newcomer finally stopped at the head of the table, lightly tanned hands pushed the cloak's hood down in a familiar movement, one that was filled with absent annoyance—almost as if the person hated to hide but had learned that it was necessary; that alone piqued Artemis' interest for, if nothing else, he still loved deciphering interesting puzzles. Narrowed verdigris eyes met Artemis' gaze before switching over to Holly, giving both the Fowl heir and the elf a venom-filled look. "You and the People _fucked up_, and _we're_ the ones reaping what _you_ sowed."

Even more intrigued by the choleric teen, Artemis asked, "Who _are_ you?"

Bright green eyes glanced over at the billionaire once more, and—for the first time—Artemis was able to catch sight of an unusual scar in the shape of a lightning bolt upon the teen's forehead. "My name is Harry Potter. I'm a wizard."

Though his lips never curved upwards, Artemis' eyes shone with his characteristic vampiric smile—thin-lipped and _mean_, and the Irishman felt a surge of appreciation for an adventure that would once more engage him and his attention in a way that hadn't been accomplished in _years_. Oh, he could _hardly wait_.

"Hello, Harry Potter. I'm Artemis Fowl."


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Surprisingly, Harry Potter didn't bother to rise to Artemis' bait. Instead, his bright green gaze narrowed further before the wizard—looking no more than seventeen or eighteen—turned just enough to glance over his shoulder. He waited expectantly and, not much long after, three more figures stepped into the conference room: two just slightly taller than Harry and one that towered over the three—lanky and skeletal, the hood deep enough so that Artemis couldn't catch sight of the person's face, but stained hands came up to settle upon the messy-haired wizard's shoulders.

First one figure and then the other pushed down their hoods, revealing a girl about the same age as Harry, one with sharp brown eyes and thick, bushy hair; the other person who ranged close to Harry's height was a boy: red hair as bright as the heart of a flame atop his head and a blue gaze that was forever scrutinizing, weighing the situation the way that a formal tactician would do. From their ages, Artemis could assume that they were Harry Potter's associates, if not his friends.

The third cloaked figure, the one whose hands continued to rest upon Harry's shoulders, kept his hood up and was not included in the introductions that Harry then proceeded to make. "This is Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley," he said, gesturing to the girl and the boy in turn. "My friends and fellow commanders."

Artemis quirked an eyebrow at that, leaning back to relax in his comfortable, Section Eight chair. "Commanders? The term indicates that you are part of a militia," he commented idly, waiting to see just what might happen as a result of his observation.

The look that Harry gave to the Fowl heir was flat and hostile, and Holly cleared her throat to try and dispel the animosity that suddenly spiked in the air. That, however, didn't do all that much good since the dark-haired wizard instead transferred that hostility to her: it was obvious that he blamed Artemis and Holly both for whatever predicament that he currently found himself in.

Intrigued, Artemis pursed his lips and waited to see what might unfold.

"Wizard Potter, we realize just how difficult this situation is for you, but I must ask you to _please_ be willing to set aside your anger, if only for a moment, so that we might try and work together," Wing Commander Raine Vinyáya said as she stepped out from a door that materialized behind Minerva's chair. The crew who were familiar with the "usual crowd" half expected Mulch Diggums to follow in after the Commander and, when he didn't, Artemis figured that the silver-haired fairy probably had the dwarf off on a different mission.

"As you wish, Commander," Harry finally acquiesced after a moment of strained silence. Artemis, however, could still see the muscle that ticked against the edge of Harry's jawline, and the Irishman knew that even if the other was able to displace his anger for the moment, it still hadn't gone completely away—which then begged the question: What had happened to make this wizard so filled with rage?

The effort that he gave in attempting to control his temper, though, was a hardy one: instead of tempting himself into lashing out the way that he probably would have if he had continued to interact, Harry instead stepped back to lean against the steadying presence of that _someone_ against his back, nodding to Hermione so that she might begin speaking to the collected group.

The girl gave her friend a quick smile before clearing her throat and looking over the assembly. "The British wizarding world has a Ministry that oversees things and, within that Ministry, lies a Department of Mysteries; this Department is run by wizards called Unspeakables and many of the projects that they undertake are highly secretive and highly dangerous. One of the projects that we know that the Unspeakables return to time and time again is the concept of 'time'—moving through, within, and outside of time, to be exact."

"But what does this have to do with us?" Minerva eventually asked, hands settled primly upon her lap as she looked over at the obviously well-researched witch, her expression arch and as belittling as possible. Artemis couldn't help but wonder why Minerva was there, except for the sole reason that she was one of the very few humans who knew of the People—and had somehow, for some reason, been contracted to help with this new, looming situation.

Hermione's expression settled into a blank mask and the redhead—Ron?—muttered something about a "Malfoy" and "soulmates." Artemis thought it best not to inquire and instead awaited for the continuation of the girl's explanation.

"Different studies have shown that the safest amount of time that a person can go back without creating a Paradox is within a twenty-four hour range. The further back that a person goes in time, the larger the Paradox—and the more dire the consequences that come as a result," Hermione explained, dark eyes glittering with sharp intelligence. "There's a treaty that discusses this, Magic, Quantum Theory, and Temporal Resonance, more in-depth and in greater detail. But I'll refrain from digressing into it as I'm sure that you won't be able to follow."

Minerva's cheeks flushed at the jibe.

Hermione let the silence linger for just a moment, stretching Minerva's embarrassment and fury a little longer, and then moved along with her explanation. "It was about a month ago that the Department of Mysteries was able to pinpoint the cause for the Paradox and the consequences that ended up affecting _us_ as a result: it occurred when two beings who were supposed to be part of time were placed outside of it for three years, which caused the first fissure in the temporal plane, and that fissure worsened when the same people traipsed through time—twisting beyond repair several linear timelines, and those journeys created a rift that was then taken advantage of since it was both temporally and inter-dimensionally connected."

The Commander spoke up once more, sighing quietly. "This becomes further convoluted due to the fact that Section Eight isn't just in charge of overseeing demon activity; it is, at its heart, a more blanket organization for dealing with the darker side of the People—the demons were just one aspect."

Holly blinked in surprise at that, and Artemis guessed that this was also news to her. "Commander…?"

Commander Vinyáya pursed her lips and gave a small, absent shrug. "I apologize for not informing you of this sooner, Captain. But Section Eight never thought that we'd be dealing with the seedier history of the People since they had been displaced for time out of mind."

Harry snorted at that, and Commander Vinyáya gave the teen a wry look.

Eventually, however, the silver-haired elf sighed and continued on: "When the People were still up on the surface, we used to be known as the Tuatha Dé Danann." From the rapt attention that Foaly and Holly both gave to the Commander, Artemis surmised that this was information that was _not_ included in The Book. "Furthermore, the Tuatha Dé Danann split themselves between the Seelie and the UnSeelie—the Light and the Dark aspects of ourselves, of our magic."

Artemis blinked at that, realization dawning as he recalled stories that he had grown up on once-upon-a-time-ago and the tales that he had stumbled upon when researching the People over a decade ago, and commented, "Ah, you mean the Seleighe, the UnSeleighe, the Sluagh, and Host, and Wild Hunt, the Tylwyth Teg, and the Daoine Sídhe? The Trooping and the Solitary Fae?"

The _Look_ that the Commander gave to Artemis then was filled with fond exasperation. "Mud Boy, you know _far_ too much about the People for your own good."

"I'm Irish," the young man offered in way of explanation with his usual noncommittal shrug. Most his fellow countrymen lived and breathed this stuff—and, besides, after a person read Rossetti's _Goblin Market_, they'd be more inclined to learn everything about the fae for the sole purpose of self-preservation.

The dratted poem still gave Artemis nightmares, even despite the real-life scenarios and life-threatening situations that he had found himself in over the years: irrational, yes; but puberty had been much the same way, as well.

It was with a shake of her head, however, that Commander Vinyáya returned to her explanation. "When we were forced to go underground to the Lower Elements and then burrowed deeper to form Haven, there were some of the brethren who had fought against the decision. They wanted to fight against the Mud People, to enslave them to do their bidding. They were practitioners of magic that was honestly, truly dark—and there was a war that erupted amongst our own People, a civil war, all while we needed to band together to fight against the Mud People. In the end, it was 'us' versus 'them.' I can neither condone nor praise the decision that our ancestors came to, but they created a ritual that would send the darker kin to a universe that's just sideways and tilted to our own. They have been banished there ever since, and we have remained safe from the Mud People's discovery—baring several exceptions."

The last was said with a nod towards the humans amongst them, and Artemis gave his slight, pleased vampiric smile; Minerva bit her lower lip as she shivered in reaction, though the expression garnered no real reaction from the three (four?) wizards. Artemis, strangely, found himself pleased with this.

When the Section Eight Commander fell silent, the female wizard continued. "Amongst the People that had been banished were the Lÿficœ who had powers to control what we call Inferi, dead bodies that have been reanimated to do someone else's bidding—think of the Muggle concept of a 'zombie,' if you will. I suppose the best summary or comparison that you can make to understand who and what they are is to think of them as fae Necromancers—and, even then, that still doesn't quite cover it."

"During our fourth year at school, they formed an alliance with the two Darkest wizards, what we call Dark Lords, of our age: Grindelwald and Voldemort," Harry suddenly spoke up, continuing where Hermione had left off. "They helped to resurrect Voldemort from his spirit form, freed Grindelwald from where he had been imprisoned for decades, and have been ravaging our world for the past four years. Many wizards and witches have died, and once the threat that we pose has been eliminated, Muggles and the People will become their next target. We have already lost our scion of the Light side and, frankly, we're _losing_."

The teen's hands shook with fury, anger and despair, knuckles bleeding to bone-white as a shudder racked through Harry's svelte frame; the figure that, during all this time, still hadn't moved his hands from the teen's shoulders then leaned forward and apparently murmured something against the shell of Harry's ear. The boy nodded and, though his eyes were still lit with burning emotions, his voice did not tremble with them.

"The Lÿficœ, the Unspeakables had discovered, came through the rift created through the excessive, repeated, and huge leaps of time travel—something that could only have happened when one traversed years instead of hours," he finally finished, letting the words remain simple: the accusation within them, though, came through clear—and Artemis finally realized why this boy who had never met him before felt such rage at both him and Holly.

It was then that Commander Vinyáya spoke once more: "LEP forces, as well as Section Eight, are here to support you. The Council voted and they have agreed to join the war before it has the chance to worsen and spread." Holly straightened at that, resolve hardening as her Commander promised the wizards the People's aid. There had been a rebellion and minor skirmishes—violence, true, but the knowledge was still there in that those encounters before were nothing more than brief encounters. This would be war.

Minerva frowned slightly, considering her options before eventually shaking her head. "I do not wish to join," the young lady eventually said. "I cannot fight, and I do not want Beau to be alone while Father is away on business. He is in need of me."

"All right," the redhead said suddenly, body language amiable and comfortable in his own lanky form. Still, his wooden stick—a wand?—shot up so quickly that it blurred in everyone's sight. Ron leveled it at Minerva and very clearly intoned, "_Obliviate_."

The magic—a spell?—zeroed in on the girl and knocked her unconscious. Immediately, every officer in the room had their firearm(s) trained upon the blue-eyed wizard, though he acted nonchalant and nonplussed at having so many weapons trained upon him. Before the tension level could get too high, though, Harry gestured towards the others in the room. "Ron did a Memory Charm," he explained as his hands moved through the air gracefully, accenting what he was saying. He would make a good speaker, Artemis thought absently. "It wipes her memories of this conversation and will not harm her—I apologize for the necessity, but there's a war going on and the wizarding world needs to keep its identity a secret for as long as possible."

"And why is it a necessity?" Butler gritted out, not at all happy over the fact that these newcomers had harmed the pretty blonde that he had grown fond of during Artemis' time in Hybras.

Harry quirked an eyebrow, and the bodyguard was reminded frightening of his own principal in that one gesture. "If the Muggles ever came across our existence, the wizarding world wouldn't be fighting against just one war. We'd have two on our hands. We're stretched thin enough as it is—anything more and we'll collapse beneath the weight. So: Better safe than sorry."

"Butler," Artemis finally said, glancing over his shoulder at his bodyguard. His tone, subtle though it was, booked for no argument from his manservant. "I'm sure that you can understand their caution. How often do you, after all, err on the side of paranoia, old friend?"

"…as you wish, Artemis."

It was during this slight exchange that Harry finally gave Artemis his full attention, verdigris eyes flat with remaining hostility—but, unbeknownst to the wizard, the disinclination towards friendliness just posed a much more interesting puzzle for Artemis to solve. After all, he and Holly were now exceptionally close and their relationship had started out with Artemis kidnapping her and holding her for ransom. Now…? The Fowl heir supposed that he could consider the elf his best friend.

The bellicosity that Harry apparently felt towards him was just an obstacle, a challenge for Artemis to overcome—a second puzzle to figure out and work through even despite the fight that he knew he would join. He had never before been in a war; perhaps the excitement and the fight for freedom and life would help alleviate his apathy and help him work through the problem of "morality" that he had been musing upon for the past two years.

"If you would welcome me, I would like to offer my services to your cause," Artemis murmured as his assessing gaze never left bright, bright springtime green. If anything, Harry's eyes flared brighter, deeper still—and Artemis couldn't help but wonder if Harry had hoped for the chance to _Obliviate_ him. The thought was, surprisingly, somewhat amusing.

Eventually, though:

The wizard was obviously desperate for aid and, despite it taking longer than Artemis had originally thought it would (a conundrum and enigma, causing immediate tweaking in his understanding of the raven-haired wizard's character), Harry finally nodded.

"All right," he eventually said and made to turn. "We'll be in contact with you again in several days. Hermione and Ron will be the main liaisons—I have to remain with the main troops."

"I'd like to come with you. I can help outfit your people immediately with some of my own inventions," Artemis offered before Harry had the chance to turn completely away. He wanted the chance to analyze this teen for as long, as often as possible, and that would not have been possible if Harry distanced himself from the proceedings and regulated the responsibilities to his two friends.

True, it wasn't the most graceful counter-offer that Artemis had ever come up with—but he was working on the fly, and the Fowl heir _much_ preferred to plot. Trigger-hair reactions were better left to Butler, after all.

Holly, however, watched the interaction with bemused eyes, eyebrows rising high.

The dark-haired wizard's upper lip curled slightly. "That's all right. Wizards and technology don't really mix—but thanks all the same."

Artemis' lips curled into his vampiric smile, and Butler felt a cold chill tremble down his spine in trepidation. "But would you really deny your people whatever weapon that they'd have the chance to use?" he counter-argued, laying down the logic of his thought process for Harry to follow—and to give in to.

Green eyes sparked in irritation, but the wizard eventually caved.

Just as Artemis knew he would.

"Come on, then. I suppose that you and your bodyguard will be the first Muggles to ever visit Hogwarts," the teen muttered, obviously unhappy with losing the discussion. That was quite all right, though: Artemis hated losing just as much, as well. Any loss was always barely, grudgingly acknowledged. And he couldn't help but approve of the fact that this wizard had that streak of pride, of winner-take-all, too.

Artemis Fowl couldn't wait to immerse himself in this new challenge.

"Splendid," the Fowl heir murmured, smile deepening, and eased up from his chair so that he and Butler could join the quartet as they headed back up to the surface. Instead of heading for the hanger, however, Harry reached out and clamped a hand on Artemis' arm while the tall stranger did the same with Butler.

With a muted _pop!_, the wizards and their new "guests" disappeared from the fairies' sight.


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